Little One
by UnknownPaws
Summary: Ronald would always be his baby boy, no matter what. One-shot based off an RP on DA


**A/N: A one-shot I wrote based off an RP I'm doing on deviantArt.**

**In it, Ronald is the son of Alan and Eric, though Eric has little interest for his son at all. **

**For another note, I see Eric as being a Scottsman, which explains the attempted accent lol**

**R&R please! ^w^**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler**

* * *

Little One

-  
_Hush little baby, don't say a word_

"Enjoy them while they last, they grow up too fast".

Whoever wrote that have obviously never stayed up late with a crying baby. Pacing the tiny kitchenette of his small downtown flat, Alan bit his lip and cursed silently. His son, held securely in his arms, screamed his throat raw, the sound penetrating every inch of the apartment.

The Reaper was at his wits end; he'd tried everything he could think of. Feeding, changing, rocking, bouncing, even simple cuddling, just to get the babe to quiet. He glanced fearfully out the window, worried about suspicious neighbours and fellow Reapers returning from overtime shifts.

If any heard the sound of Ronald's incredible screaming, no doubt they would come to investigate. After all, for all they knew, Alan lived alone - why would there be crying akin to that of an infant's? What's worse, if word ever reached William-

He shook his head, dismissing the thought from his head - he shouldn't, couldn't think like that. No one, not even his boss, could know of the existence of his child - the risk was too great, a price he wasn't willing to pay if he was caught.

But he already was caught, ensnared in the web of a vicious spider. Slowly, the predator was closing in, each step bringing them closer to him and - more importantly- his baby. His grip on Ronald tightened just a smig.

Leaning back against the countertop, he took a glance at the clock sitting on the shelf - 2:30 AM. A whole hour he'd been up, trying desperately to soothe the restless babe with no advil. It seemed, almost, the more he tried, the louder Ronald cried. It was in vain, all of his attempts.

Until at last he was left with nothing.

Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of his eyes, his face tinted a slight shade of apple red.

"Please, sweetheart, stop crying!" he pleaded, looking desperately at his son.

He knew he sounded ridiculous, trying to talk sense with a three-day old baby, but he was too tired and stressed to care.

Then an idea, like a flash of lightning in a storm, hit him. He paused, mentally swearing in his head - why hadn't he thought of this half an hour ago?!

Rocking the child gently, he began to sing a soft yet familiar melody.

_"London Bridge is falling down_  
_Falling down, falling down_  
_London Bridge is falling down-"_

He smiled as his son's cries quieted to whimpers, the infant nuzzling against his chest as tired eyes drooped closed.

_"-My sweet baby..."_

-  
_Momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird_

He knew something was wrong; he should have suspected it the moment Ronald's screaming hit a high note the night before. Yet he never thought anything of it, settling the babe down into his cradle prior to retiring to his room. Only to awaken the next dawn to find -to his horror- a red-faced Ronald lying face down in the cradle, wheezing pathetically in attempt to draw air into his tiny lungs.

He thought his heart had stopped for a good moment.

Hours later,and still no improvement.

Leaning back against the headboard, he stared down sadly at the sickly baby cradled in his arms. Ronald's breathing was dull, uneven and far too faint for Alan's liking. He winced, blinking away the sting of tears welling up in his eyes for the second night in a row. He would have prefered the loud wailing that had ensued yesterday compared to this- his poor child, silenced by illness.

It made him ache inside, to think that the baby had been suffering alone while he slept. Cruelly, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He was reminded of his own battle, his own illness. The Thorns of Death were woven into him, slowly killing him from the inside out. As far as any Shinigami knew, there was no illness - yet, to his shock, he realized in the whole durrentation of becoming a parent, not once had the disease crossed his mind.

It was more to his surprise that the reason being was lack of attacks upon his being from the malevolent thorns hidden away inside his body.

Unconsciously, he shivered, a cold chill running down his spine. He didn't want to think about what would happen should he die.

What would happen to his son.

Ronald coughed weakly, shaking like a leaf in the wind; it squeezed Alan's heart.

He choked, wishing Eric were there with him. By his side; soothing, comforting, just reassuring him with his presence. Yet, deep down, he knew it was just a flimsy wish. Eric had made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with his son, leaving without a word when it became too much for him to bear.

Leaving Alan alone to care for the baby.

He knew he should be angry, he should have resented his partner for deserting him during a time he needed him most. But he could not; in a way, he understood why his lover left. Eric wasn't ready to be a father, and the burden and stress was too much for him to deal with. Still, the pain of losing him stung worse than any attack the Thorns could have brought upon him.

He bit back a whimper, drawing his knees close to his chest in a sense of insecurity.

Glancing out the window, he sniffled uncontrollably as the setting sun's light danced in his eyes. The sky painted a college of colours, orange, red, and yellow, steadily growing darker as the time passed by. To a Reaper, time normally meant nothing; to him, it meant everything. As the last of the sun's rays dipped below the horizon, he lowered his head in exhaustion, finally spent from the stress and worry of the day.

Ronald mewled softly, wiggling slightly against his hold, trying to edge closer to him for warmth. He shifted, adjusting his grip, before sliding underneath the covers of the bed. Resting the baby on his chest, he rubbed his back in small, soothing circles, exhaling a sigh a the waves of sleep pulled him under.

_He would awaken the next morning to find Ronald, still asleep in his arms, less flustered and breathing easier._

_-  
And if that mockingbird don't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring_

He smiled, listening contently to the radio as the rain pattered gently against the glass of the kitchen window. He always found storms soothing, provided no lightning or heavy wind disturbed the steady fall of water droplets hitting the earth. Aftermath of rain was his favourite; the smell of fresh dew, of the earth, of life, all around him - it was like a stress reliever. After spending constant decades dealing with death (he was a Grim Reaper after all), he'd learned to enjoy the simple yet meaningful moments of nature, whenever possible.

It gave him time to take his mind of the usual routine and relax for a brief period of time.

A soft gurgle made him smile more, eyes shifting over to the small bouncy chair - hung over the door frame- containing his son. A month old, and slightly more alert, Ronald's big, wide eyes gazed curiously at the rain falling outside.

A chuckle escaped him. Setting the orange he was peeling off to the side, he moved over to the babe, gently scooping him up into his arms and carrying him over to the window. Ronald cooed, tiny fists waving in excitement as he watched the water splatter against the glass.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Alan mused, stroking the soft tuff of peach fuzz covering his son's head. "So wet and cold, but so calm and refreshing at the same time..."

He smiled down at his son, the baby glancing up at him in return.

"It creates mudslides and floods, but also brings life to nature. April showers bring May flowers" he giggled, pressing a light kiss to his son's cheek. "And you, my dear, are an April baby".

Ronald fussed, tongue sticking out in concentration as he attempted to 'touch' the falling raindrops, unaware of the distance between him and them. Alan giggled again, amusement sparkling in his eyes. Ronald huffed, fed up, and turned his head away to snuggle into Alan's shirt.

"Come now, none of that!" the brunette teased, tickling the child's front.

His son squealing with laughter, he smiled heartily, swaying gently on spot to the sound of the radio. The gentle rhythmic movement, soothing melody, and warmth shared between parent and child, lulled the little one to sleep. Alan nuzzled him, humming along with the quiet playing song.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

-  
_And if that diamond ring turns brass, Momma's gonna buy you a looking glass._

They were wrong, out of their minds.

The small Reaper fumed, scratching roughly at the paperwork lying scattered about his desk. Ink splotches covered most of them, but the brunette could give less of a care at the moment. He'd gotten away with working at home for the past two months under the guise that his Thorns were causing him immense discomfort and pain. Eric had fidgeted at the response, but of course, he soon realized the real reason behind his partner's request.

He knew it was bad to lie to his boss, and to his partner, but he couldn't leave Ronald home alone at such a young age. So far, the time had gone by smoothly, with little to no intrusion or suspicion running about. Virtually, no one aside from Eric suspected his real reason for staying home.

Except for one particular group - the Higher Ups.

After Ronald was born, they had begun discussing the risk of the child to the society -he was born from influence of demon magic. There was the notion of the child being a demon as a result, and if so, he would have to be removed and dealt with.

"A monster", they had called him.

Alan hissed in anger, hand trembling from seer fury.

Ronald was not a monster, far from it. Just an innocent baby that had done no wrong - it sickened him to hear the elders talking about his son in that manner. As if he was nothing but a pest they could swat away and crush.

Not on his watch.

Yet for the past two months, he remained unbothered, left alone by the Higher Ups. He supposed he should have been suspicious; instead, he had been distracted by the needs and care for his son. Until earlier that morning, when a member of the Council had arrived at his doorstep, demanding that he hand over the child by order of the Higher Ups.

Of course, he had refused. The result was an issued two hour argument, in the front foyer of his house. Finally, giving up to the stubborn Reaper, the councilman left, but not without threatening to issue consequences if Alan continued to refuse to cooperate with the order.

Alan slammed the door in his face.

Biting back a yawn, he glanced over at the subject of his troubles, lying asleep on a blanket spread out over the living room carpet. A small contraption, toys dangling from a bar over the baby, had been the child's provision of entertainment for the past couple of hours. But Alan had found himself constantly turning his attention towards Ronald, afraid that he might vanish if he so much as took his eyes off of him for too long.

Signing his name on the last document, the brunette heaved a heavy sigh, setting his quill to the side and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he pulled himself out of his chair, heading over to the baby's selected spot in the room.

Kneeling down beside him, avoiding the array of toys cluttered about the floor, he stroked a chubby cheek with a worried expression. He had to be more careful, now that the threat of losing his son was out in the open. Shaking his head, he shifted and laid down beside the child, watching his sleeping face intently.

Ronald snuffed, limbs twitching, unaware that someone was joining in on his evening nap.

Alan ran a hand over his head, brushing the tiny cowlick that grew from his scalp.

"No matter what happens, I will always protect you, my little one..."

_-  
And if that looking glass becomes broke, Momma's gonna buy you a Billy Goat_

It was over.

His son was gone.

Collapsing to his knees in the middle of the darkened living room, he could only wheeze and tremble as the shock took over. His eyes, wide and dull, stared at nothing in particular; his mind, too blank and void to formulate a single straight train of thought.

Nothing seemed to shake him from his stupor, not even the steady ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Over and over again, like a Cinematic Record, the memory replayed in his mind, stop button broken.

It had been half past one, exactly four hours after he had put Ronald to bed, two since he himself had retired to his room. The door had burst open, figures rushing into his room. A hand covered his mouth, many more restraining him against the bed.

Confusion and panic wracked his sleep-fogged brain, as he twisted in the painful grip, trying to escape. He couldn't tell what was happening, vision blurred and hazy from lack of glasses. Yet, from the doorway, he could see a dark figure clasping onto a smaller, lighter bundle.

His blood ran cold at the sound of his son's scream of terror.

Yelling into the hand covering his mouth, he struggled and fought, withering desperately against the other Reapers' hold. He needed to reach his son, to save him. The iron grip grew stronger, slamming him down against the bed as a cold voice whispered into his ear.

"We warned you what would happen if you refused to cooperate..."

At once, all the hands holding him vanished, leaving him gasping and trembling upon the bed. He pulled himself up in time to see the last of the Council members fleeing down the hall. Cursing, he shot up, racing after them as fast as his legs would run.

Yet it was in vain, for the moment he reached the front foyer, they had already portaled away.

Ronald's last terrified screams still echoed in his ears.

He shuddered, a cold chill running down his spine at the realized that he had failed, failed to protect the one life he had been given.

He lost his son; Ronald was gone.

Shaking, he reached over, picking up the stray blue blanket lying on the floor, the same one Ronald had fallen asleep on the night prior and countless times before. Holding it to his face, he inhaled the familiar scent of his child, the last reminder he had left. He whimpered, not even bothering to stop the barrage of tears rolling down his face, hands clenching tightly at the treasured keepsake.

It was all he had left.

-  
_And if that billy goat won't pull, Momma's gonna buy you a cart and bull_

He'd put away all of the baby's things, moving them to storage in his back room.

A heavy weight had settled in his heart, as the days passing became but a blur.

His mind was not in the right place, too caught up in the shock and pain of losing his son. To make it worse, the day after the incident, he suffered a small attack from the Thorns. It appeared as if Fate was mocking him, sending one barrage of agony after another.

No one could get him to talk, or even focus on anything for that matter. It disturbed the others around him, to see him in such a state. Just yesterday he had strode right past his neighbours, not even returning their greetings - in a way, it was as if he never noticed them at all.

Partially true; he barely noticed anything in the past few days.

Eric had stopped by after work two days after, concerned with his partner's sudden change in attitude. It didn't take him long to figure out why.

As much as Alan wanted to push him away, angry as he was at the man's lack of help during the past three months, he couldn't. Instead, against his better judgement, he leaned into the gentle hugs offered, soothed by tender kisses placed upon his crown, and allowed himself to be comforted by sickly sweet words. Eric, to his gratitude and irritation, said nothing of the child.

Pushing another cardboard box into storage, he wiped his brow before starting back into the living room. Grabbing another box, he moved about picking up leftover toys and objects lying on the tabletops, shelves and the floor.

As he knelt down on the carpet, one particular item made him pause. Reaching down, he carefully picked up a small stuffed dormouse, grey with a red ribbon tied around its neck. The plush material, flattened in some areas from constant cuddling, remained soft as the day he had brought it home from the store.

_"Look, Ronnie! I got you something special!" Alan chirped, smiling down at the fussing baby lying disgruntled in his cradle._

_Ronald huffed and gave him a disapproving look, as if mentally scolding him for disrupting his plans of playing with the mobile hanging above his head. Alan giggled, watching as his son's expression changed from annoyance to curiosity then eagerness as he pulled the stuffed animal from behind his back._

_His son squealing in happiness, he scooped him up into his arms, handing him the new and interesting toy. Ronald fumbled to hold it right, delighting in the small squeak it emitted the moment it was squeezed._

_Rocking the child gently, Alan glanced out the nursery window, only to gasp in surprise._

_"Ronnie, look, look!" he whispered in excitement._

_The baby glanced around before catching sight of the window, cooing in curiosity and nervousness. Alan held his breath, eyes trained on the most unusual, yet endearing, sight. situated outside on the sill. A female brown rabbit lay in the shelter of the windowsill, watching the late evening sun set. Curled up by her belly, tucked into her fur, lay a tiny baby dormouse. Barely a couple of days old, the tiny creature wriggled and squeaked quietly, nursing contently from the rabbit._

_The rabbit turned her head to the window, freezing at the sight of the Reaper and child watching her from behind the glass. Her ears twitched nervously, eyes glued to Alan in fear. Yet, after a moment, she relaxed, lower her head to nuzzle her "baby" reassuringly._

_Alan smiled warmly, touched by the tender scene occurring right outside his window. Yet, as he glanced the other way, he paled at the sight of a blonde cat perched on the opposite end of the sill, attention turned towards the rabbit and mouse. He remained still, unsure of what to do as the creature leaned over, sniffing the duo intently._

_Then he breathed easy as the cat turned on its heel, stalking to the far side of the window, disinterested. It was curious, seeing such creatures of nature behave in this manner. Yet the more he thought about it, the closer it collided with his own situation._

_Shaking his head, he smiled down at Ronald, whose attention had been captured by the teddy in his grasp._

_"My own little mousey" he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of the babe's head._

Something wet splashed against the back of his hand.

Reaching up, his finger brushed over a slick array of fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. He hadn't realized he had started crying, too caught up in the memory to notice. Clutching the dormouse to his chest, he stood up, ignoring the box and rest of the toys lying haphazardly on the floor. Making his way into his bedroom, he took the teddy and set it upon a shelf.

It was the only thing, besides the blue blanket, that would not be put into storage.

-  
_And if that cart and bull turn over, Momma's gonna buy you a dog named Clover_

He filed out the last of his paperwork, eager to start his lunch break and move out of the office for an hour. Behind him, he could hear Eric cursing involuntary, the latter of which made him snigger.

"Payback for dumping your work on me last week" he murmured in sadistic delight.

In front of him, Grell, as usual, was busy slacking off, painting his nails a vibrant shade of blood red. His paperwork, as usual, lay stacked up in an enormous pile upon his desk, the chainsaw Death Scythe propped against it.

As usual, their boss, William, came storming into the office, intent on yelling at the red-haired Reaper.

Gulping, Alan busied himself with finishing off his paperwork, not wanting to get on his boss's bad side. Not that he ever did, but it was better to take precaution when the man was in a foul mood, now being one of those times.

William left, not before having a rather heated conversation with his employee and attempting to whack him upside the head with his scythe. Grell huffed, returning to painting his nail with a bored expression on his face.

"The 'ell did Spears want?" Eric voiced.

Grell shrugged.

"Just some ruddy tosh about me mentoring the new recruit! As if I, a sophisticated lady, have such time for things!"

"Think of it as practice" Eric suggested. "Can' turn out as bad as las' time..."

"Oh please, that runt was asking for it!" Grell scoffed, capping the bottle of nail polish and setting it aside. "No my problem if the bugger's ego was larger than his brain! Didn't think twice before storming out into the field, the loon."

"Yer were supposed ta be watchin' 'im..."

"I was... Until he decided to be cocky and wander off on his own" Grell huffed. "It's not important... Will's already gone to get the new flesh, so I can't say anything..."

"Yer were going ta?" Eric raised an eyebrow.

"No, I wouldn't deny my dear William's request~! Ah, such a cold, cold man~!"

Leaving Grell to melt into his fantasy, Eric snorted and poked Alan with his pencil.

"Oi, any ideas on what the new kid's like?"

"No idea" Alan muttered, still focused on his work.

Five minutes passed before the door to the office opened, William filing into the room with a new face behind him. Everyone paused in their work, waiting for the announcement they knew was coming.

"Glad to see I have all of your attention (excluding Sutcliff, obviously). It pleases me to say that we, as a Dispatch, will be having a new member join us today. He is fresh out the academy, and will be trained under the supervision of Senior Officer, Grell Sutcliff (pay attention when I'm talking to you). I expect you to treat them with respect and cooperation, as you do the rest of your co-workers (not looking at you, Slingby, Sutcliff)."

The rest of the Reapers murmured amongst themselves as William stepped aside to reveal the newest employee.

Alan paled and his heart nearly stopped.

A tall, lanky youth stood before them, fresh in his new suit (the latter of which clashed with his white Oxford shoes) and recently acquired glasses. Bright green eyes, a traditional characteristic shared by all Reapers, brimmed with a mischievous fire. Blonde hair was brushed out lazily into a wavy fashion, the bottom half poorly dyed black - yet it was the cowlick that caught his attention.

It couldn't be - he almost refused to believe it. Decades had passed since that day, the memories long since driven to the back of his mind. But as he stood there, staring at the boy, a familiar ache began to arise in his chest. Not the Thorns, but the pain of a long-lost love for something so precious.

The young Reaper grinned at all of them (he had his father's cockiness, it seemed), addressing the crowd like a pro.

"The name's Ronald Knox, the next Reaper to DIE!"

It was him, his son.

Alan could feel tears brimming in his eyes, and it took all of his strength and will to keep from letting them fall. All these years, he had thought his child was dead, offed by the council under assumption that he was a demon.

But here he was, standing before him like a beacon of light in a sea of fog.

Bright, and alive.

Joy filled him at the prospect of finally seeing Ronald again after all these years. It was in this happiness, that he could not help but beam proudly at his child, pleased as only a parent can be at his success in life.

The sensation stayed with him right until the end of the day. Clocking out, he swiftly made his way to General Affair, dropped off his Scythe, and proceeded down to the main entrance hall. Reaching the elevators (he barely bothered with the stairs), he waited until the doors opened before stepping in, pushing the button for the ground floor.

"WAIT!"

He froze, jamming at the "Doors Open" button as a fellow Reaper came racing down the hall. The doors paused just in time to let the other scoot inside, sliding close not a moment too soon. Alan huffed, trying to calm his racing heart, as his co-worker panted breathlessly beside him.

"Damn, sorry 'bout that! Got m'self lost tryin' to find my way around the place..."

"It's no trouble, happens to the best of us-" he smiled turning towards the other Reaper, his face paling a second later.

Ronald stood beside him, looking around the elevator with a curious face.

"Not too shabby, better than the Academy's. That bloody thing got stuck every damn time you had five or more people in it!"

He had never gotten the chance earlier to see his son up close; Ronald was tall, a good couple of inches taller than him, with almost boyish, adolescent features. His hair had taken to growing more like Eric's, unruly yet easy to brush down, the cowlick stubbornly shooting up into the air.

"Ronald...?" he breathed, his heart pounding against his ribs. "Is it really you...?"

"Ummm... Yes?" Ronald said, turning to look towards Alan.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Alan's heart soared.

"S-Sorry... Do I know you?"

Then it all came crashing down with those selected few words. His heart dropped like a lead weight.

"...No, I don't think so... Sorry, you looked like someone I knew" he smiled apologetically, but not for his behaviour a moment before.

For losing him, leaving him alone to survive on his own, not fighting hard enough to protect him, for failing to keep him safe, and for not being there when he needed him.

Ronald shrugged, a cocky grin upon his face.

"No worries, mate! Happens to the best of us!" he repeated his superior's words with a jesting wink, the gesture cheeky but not unfriendly.

Alan managed a laugh.

"Yes, I suppose it does" he smiled as best he could.

Silence befell them before Alan spoke up again.

"Your parents must be proud, seeing you succeed like this".

"Wouldn't know" Ronald shrugged again. "Ain't got any. I was raised an orphan. Folks were lost when I was really young, according to the Council".

'That's a lie!' Alan wanted to scream, yet refrained and kept his voice quiet, watching as the elevator doors slid open, Ronald and him slipping out into the front hall.

"Well, see you later, Mr..."

"Humphries, Alan Humphries" Alan smiled, watching as Ronald nodded in farewell, turning his heel and exiting the Dispatch into the busy streets outside.

For a few minutes, he stood alone, barely noticing the footstep approaching from behind.

"Doesn' remember, does 'e?" Eric said solemnly from behind.

Alan shook his head, voice lost deep within his throat.

"Hate ta say it... It's probably fer the best, he don' know..."

The blonde gently rubbed the brunette's back, pressing a kiss to his temple before leaving to his overtime shift ("This is what happens when you mouth off to me, Slingby").

Later that night, Alan lay upon his bed, curled up atop the blankets like a cat. The moonlight filtered into his room, stars dancing in the ebony sky like gemstones. In his arms, he held the old stuffed Dormouse. He stroked the ear, exhaustion slowly dragging him down into a dreamless sleep. Despite the sorrow, he was still joyous.

In the end, his son was alive. That was all that mattered.

-  
_And if that dog don't bark, Momma's gonna buy you a horse and cart._

Green eyes fluttered open, the late afternoon sun shining through his window pane.

He grimaced, shielding his eyes while rolling to the side, trying to escape the nasty glare shining in his face. Yawning tiredly, he smiled gently as he found himself lying face to face with his son. Ronald snored lightly, a small trickle of drool dribbling from his mouth; the image of it sent him back in time to when the boy was a mere baby.

He giggled, wiping it away with his sleeve, watching as the blonde made a face.

"Even now, you hate it when I do that..." he mused, running his fingers through the blonde locks of hair.

"Hate wha'?"

Ronald's voice was slurred, heavy with the impact of sleep.

Alan watched as his eyes fluttered open, a deep yawn escaping his throat.

"When you were a baby, I used to wash your face with a spare dish towel I had. You hated it; whenever I tried to clean you, you alway scrunched up your face and turned away" he chuckled softly at the memory, brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes.

"Ah" Ronald groaned softly, stretching out his limbs before curling up against Alan's side.

"You seem trouble... Is something the matter?"

Alan hesitated, uncertain of whether or not to voice his dreams out loud. For certain they had been a barrage of memories, both good and bad, but the level of intensity it would have on Ronald - too much. It could wait.

"It's nothing, just old worries" he smiled.

Right now, all he wanted to do was bask in the late afternoon heat with his son, content with just being lazy for a few short moments.

"Hey... It's okay. I'm back, I'm here. You don't have to worry about them anymore- they can't, won't, separate us again..."

Ronald's words reassured him; he smiled up at him again, lost in the warmth of the moment.

"It's getting late..."

The younger Reaper only snorted.

"Meh, I think I'll just stay here" he declared, scooting closer to Alan until he could pull the other male into a gentle hug. "No parties goin' on tonight, and I don' wanna move anyways".

Alan chuckled.

"I'm fine with that" he murmured, wrapping his arms around Ronald, resting his chin on the top of his head as sleep took him away.

Outside, a brown rabbit sat on the window sill, a small grey dormouse huddled between its paws. Curled around them, a large blonde cat.

-  
_And if that horse and cart fall down, you'll still be the sweetest baby in town._

A/N: The lullaby is the traditional "Hush Little Baby"


End file.
